Silence
by Mrs. James Harold Potter
Summary: I knew why he loved this time of day. It was when it was just him and me, where we didn’t have to worry about our work, or problems or anything. It was just Jess and me. We had calm together, even when we were talking. Our silence.


Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls or anything related to it

Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls or anything related to it. All rights go to ASP and DP. In addition, the Mick Jagger bashing was not mine, some comedian said it somewhere on TV, and I can't remember whom. Anyway, rights go to that person. In addition, I don't own any of the literary or musical references. :)

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm writing this story for The Muse Bunny. The prompt is 'Silence.' I'd love to know what everyone thinks. I apologize if this isn't exactly my best piece of writing, but I'm going back to school in two days and time has been an issue. **

Silence

_Silence_

_By: Jess Mariano_

_My name is Jess Mariano. Most people think of me as the sarcastic, monosyllabic jerk that runs Truncheon Books and gets pretty annoyed when people continually come into my business to ask me where to get good Philly Cheese steaks. I mean, sure you come to Philly for a Cheese steak, but don't come into a BOOK STORE to ask where to get them._

I'm sure that no one finds humor in this other than me. Actually, if you can believe it, I'm sitting here laughing my ass off for two reasons. First off, because my girlfriend was right. I'm beginning to rant, just like her. See, whenever she gets angry or frustrated about something she starts to go off about how angry it makes her and somehow end up on a topic that had nothing to do with anything she was talking about to begin with. The second reason I am laughing my ass off right now was because I just watched a clip of that dance that Mick Jagger does on stage, and he looks like a chicken on acid. End rant, I swear.

_So getting back to before, I really don't have a good rep with the locals. They still love Truncheon and everyone comes back, partially because Matt saves my ass every time I'm about to get testy with someone. I love Philadelphia, but everyone here is so goddamn stupid. (Oh, by the way, the irony in writing this article for the Philadelphia Weekly is killing me.) _

_I love the noise of the city—I grew up in New York and now I live here. Nevertheless, sometimes, I just need silence. I need that time to just sit down and let my mind shut down. But it never stops. I can still hear Luke telling me an animated tale about his discovery that his wife Lorelai and her dog, Paul Anka have the same expression on their face when they watch TV together. I can hear the dripping of the god damn coffee machine in the next room over. The dripping for Christ's sake! There is one noise that I never get sick of. Rory Gilmore's._

_She's beautiful. She has the most stunning cerulean eyes that you will ever look into. She has a smile so genuine, that when it's made for you, you get a high greater than one that any drug can give you. She reads everything that I do, other than the fact that she loves Ayn Rand and hates Hemingway. It's the other way around for me. We like the same music and she's one of the most optimistic people I know. K.C. and the Sunshine Band need to step out of the way, because __**she's **__walking on sunshine, not them. But most of all, she makes me happy. I've told you all bits and pieces about what my life has been like, but I haven't been happier than I have been these past two years of my life._

_They say that love changes a person. Hell, I would know, and based on my description of her, you should too. I'm not getting into the details, because I told my boss that I was writing an essay based on the word prompt silence—not my life's story. But you all can just know this—when I was seventeen, I was a jerk. I lied, stole, manipulated, and hurt people to get what I wanted. Because of that, I almost lost the one person that meant something to me forever. Six years later, I finally learned how to say something that most people can say and understand by the age of four. What took kids minutes to learn took me twenty three years. I learned how to apologize. And it wasn't easy._

_After all of that, is it too much to ask for a little bit of calm?_

Whenever Jess picks his work over me, I like to curl up in the armchair in the corner and pretend to read a book. Today, it's The Writing Class. Every so often, I flip the page so he doesn't get suspicious. Instead of reading the book, I watch not Jess, my lover—I watch Jess, the writer.

I love the way that his eyebrows knit together as he types, and his eyes squint because he's still in denial about being farsighted. I know that he's writing about me, because whenever he does he has that little smirk on his face. Ever since I've come back here, everything's been different. I know that he's changed. Things will get better.

There are times when I used doubt myself, and I doubted Jess, and I doubted that this new life I was living with him was going to last. During those times, I was scared when he said he was leaving—even to go to work, because I thought that maybe he'd come to his senses and leave as he usually did. But he didn't.

He stayed. A whole year went by since he called me and told me he wanted to talk. A year has gone by since chocolate eyes looked into my own and told me he was sorry. A year has gone by since I made the best decision of my life in believing him.

I quietly place the book on the soft, worn cushion of the armchair, tiptoeing over to Jess.

"Hey." I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Hey." he murmured back, finally closing his laptop. He stood up and wrapped his arm around my neck as we walked towards the door.

"Does this mean that we're leaving now?" I whined playfully, kissing him on the cheek.

Jess rolled his eyes at me. "I had to do some work, besides, we've gone to the same music store to stare at the _same_ damn CD EVERY day this week."

"That because I still am saving up for the complete Bangles collection. I spent all my money on your birthday."

As though he hadn't even been paying attention to our conversation, Jess spoke again, this time more quietly. "You know, I love this time of day."

I rested my head on his shoulder, nodding in agreement. I knew why he loved this time of day. It was when it was just him and me, where we didn't have to worry about our work, or problems or anything. It was just Jess and me. We had calm together, even when we were talking. A silence almost, with the one I loved.

A silence. Yeah, that's what it is.


End file.
